


this is all you can do

by Princex_N



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Brainfog, Caring, Chronic Pain, Conversations, Disability, Families of Choice, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Self-Acceptance, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: "You don't have to. I can still..."She interrupts him to say, "Yes, but do youwantto?"He pauses, still half ready to heave himself up off the bench despite the sharp pains of protest in his joints and the dull bruised feeling in the soles of his feet.He doesn't think anyone has asked himthatbefore.In which Snufkin learns to accept help a little easier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already mostly written! Keep an eye out for the rest of the chapters, it shouldn't take me very long to get them all up!

Snufkin makes the slow walk from his tent to Moominhouse with his usual air of patience.

Moomin had been by earlier that morning to ask Snufkin if he had wanted to accompany him and Little My to the Lonely Mountains for a hike, but Snufkin had turned them down. Although it certainly  _seemed_  like fun, he knew that today was a day better spent relatively stationary, and Moomin had bid him goodbye with promises of bringing back a good story that evening. 

And Snufkin knows that he  _could_  continue to spend the time in his tent, or perhaps out in the sun outside of his tent; it would certainly be perfectly comfortable. But, while he certainly appreciates and requires time alone, some stationary days are still better spent in the company of others.

So, he heads to Moominhouse. It's unlikely that Moomintroll is already back, and he might not be returning any time soon, but that's fine. He's hardly the only one there whose company Snufkin has learned to appreciate. 

"Snufkin!" Moominmamma exclaims, spotting him as he shuffles his way carefully up the ramp Moominpappa had built for him (truly, he  _can_  take the stairs quite comfortably - or as comfortably as he can expect to, on days like these - but the ramp is there, and he might as well show his appreciation through using it.) 

"Hello, Moominmamma," he replies, smiling back as he works his way over. "How have you been this morning?"

"Good!" she tells him. "I spent the morning making a syrup with the dandelions you and Moomin picked for me yesterday, and it turned out very nicely. Would you like to try some, maybe with some tea?" 

Snufkin limps across the porch to the seat Moominmamma has shifted to offer him. "That sounds lovely," he says, trying not to make the relief of being off of his feet obvious. Especially once he realizes that she's going  _inside_  to get it. "Oh! I can go in and get it myself, or at the very least keep you company while you make it."

She gives him a surveying look as he begins to search for purchase to help leverage himself up with, and he forcibly represses the inclination to bristle under it. She has not said or done anything to warrant it, yet, and never has before. "It's not necessary," she assures him. "It won't take but a moment, and you can rest out here while I get it." 

Something stubborn in his chest rears its head. "You don't have to. I can still..." 

She interrupts him to say, "Yes, but do you  _want_  to?" 

He pauses, still half ready to heave himself up off the bench despite the sharp pains of protest in his joints and the dull bruised feeling in the soles of his feet. 

He doesn't think anyone has asked him  _that_  before. 

The temptation to say 'yes' is there, to stand up and prove that he's more than willing and capable of standing up, walking, and taking care of things on his own. He could. It's possible. After all, he's put his body through far worse. It wasn't as though anyone else was going to speak up and offer to help him (not without treating him like a child, at least), so what would be the point in trying to ask for it?

"I am in pain, today, but I can still..." 

Moominmamma's paw comes to rest lightly on his shoulder. "I believe you could," she says, "but you don't need to prove anything to me, dear. Of course you can, despite the pain, but do you  _want_  to?" 

He hesitates for long enough that he's sure that she'll leave to do it on her own despite his protests, but she doesn't. She stays, and waits to hear his answer. 

"No," he admits, finally. Slowly, but not quite reluctantly, looking up at her nervously from underneath the wide brim of his hat. The fact of the matter is that he  _could_ , it would be painful and slow, but he  _could_. The reality of the situation is that he doesn't want to. He hurts enough already - he doesn't want to stand, or walk, or make it worse and suffer through it. 

Moominmamma smiles at him. "Then you don't have to," she tells him, voice light and pleasant, but tempered with a careful slowness - like she understands the impact of these words on him. 

If walking will make it worse, then he doesn't have to, just to prove that he can. 

He has people he can trust enough to rely on, now. 

"I'll go get the tea," she says, "and I'll be back in just a moment." 

He watches her go, still a little torn about just sitting there while she does all the work, but he doesn't push himself to stand and follow her. He forces himself to relax against the back of the porch bench, revels in the slight lessening of the pain, and allows himself to marvel once again at the kindness of this family instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Snufkin grimaces uncomfortably as he tries once again to readjust his grip on his fishing pole. 

It's been a rough day, to say the least, and by this point he's half-ready to just call it quits and head to sleep early, hoping that the rest will make tomorrow better. He'd been planning on turning in after catching enough fish to make a decent meal, but it's becoming apparent that he might not even get  _that_ far. No matter how he tries to shift positions, the sharp ache in his back begins to spread within seconds of settling down again, and his fingers and wrists practically scream in discomfort at every twitch of the rod. 

He'd resign himself to foraging - if only he had the energy, or a lack of pain in his legs. 

Instead, he might just have to wait until tomorrow to eat.

(He knows, of course, that the Moomins would be more than happy to have him at their table for dinner, but he's  _exhausted_ , and the thought of being around a group of people - even ones as kind and accepting as the Moomins - is enough to start pushing him over the edge.) 

Snufkin arches his back and tries to readjust the fishing rod again - a last ditch effort to keep trying before he gives up for good.

Or, it would be, if he didn't find himself interrupted by the sound of someone behind him calling his name.

He turns as well as he's able to, hissing out a quiet breath of pain as a muscle along his spine lights up in agony at the motion. Snorkmaiden wanders into his line of sight eventually, waving enthusiastically as she approaches. 

"Hullo, Snorkmaiden," he calls back. Just because he's exhausted doesn't mean he can't be polite (especially when Snorkmaiden has done nothing wrong). "How are you today?" 

"Oh I'm good," she says happily. "I was just trying to find Little My when I saw you. You looked," he doesn't know exactly what she's planning on saying, but he winces minutely at the thought of what could be coming. He isn't sure how long she'd been able to see him before she had called. If she hesitates at his expression, it's only for a moment, "like you weren't especially busy though, and I wondered if you'd be willing to help me with something?" 

"Help you with what?" he asks, certainly willing to hear her out, but knowing that he'll probably have to put it off to some later day. Even just sitting still for this conversation is beginning to become uncomfortable. 

"I've been wanting to learn how to fish," she says, and flushes a vague red color at the flash of skepticism that crosses his face. "It's true! Snork hardly takes care of himself at all, and he definitely doesn't go out and catch fish for me to cook for us the way Moominpappa does for Moominmamma, but  _I'm_ getting tired of making the same things all the time. I was going to ask the Moomins for help, but if  _you_ teach me instead, then I won't have to worry about taking from them, and you can show me something easy, can't you?" 

She makes a convincing argument, and Snufkin could probably have the energy to spend the time with her if she was the one who held the fishing rod (which she would have to be, since Snufkin only has the one),  _and_ if she helped him fish there would be nothing in the way of him eating properly tonight. 

Something in her expression makes Snufkin think that she is well aware of all this, and it would be easy to allow his suspicion and pride to turn her down. But, her explanation was likely at least  _mostly_ true, and Snufkin can admit that the offer of help is enticing right now. 

"Alright," he says finally. He gets his fingers to relax their grip slightly, and gestures loosely to the empty space beside him in the grass. "I'll do my best." 

Despite her willingness to take a back seat on most adventures, Snorkmaiden is both competent and clever, and she picks up new skills quickly. Hardly any time passes at all before she's caught enough fish to make a meal with, and she follows along with one of Snufkin's usual recipes with a similar ease. 

"This was a lot of fun," she tells him as she busies herself with splitting the food into portions - one for her to bring back home and one for Snufkin. "You'll have to let me do this again sometime. For practice." 

He smiles a little at her transparency, but can't deny that her presence was equal parts enjoyable and helpful, and his conversation with Moominmamma still hovers at the front of his mind. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea, to accept help like this more often. 

"If you insist," he says placidly, not quite able to say any of these other things aloud, but the small smile Snorkmaiden gives him lets him know that she's understood what he hasn't said. 

It doesn't feel as intimidating as it might have, before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we should all collectively write more snorkmaiden and snufkin interactions; they're just so good!


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his best intentions, it's entirely possible that Snufkin may have bitten off more than he could chew here. 

They're only walking as far as the beach - which is not an especially long distance - but it's taking far longer than Snufkin had anticipated. Sniff and Little My have already excused themselves and gone on ahead to disappear from sight entirely, and it's only Moomin's seemingly endless patience that keeps him on the pace Snufkin has set. 

Snufkin  _is_ looking forward to spending time by the ocean, and he has no intention of turning back, but the throb in his knees and ankles that spikes with every step he takes are certainly not making this a pleasant walk, nor a quick one. 

"You can go on without me," he tells Moomin plainly. "I'll be able to catch up eventually." 

Moomin, predictably, doesn't take the out. "That's okay," he says. "I don't mind staying with you." 

"Well, I feel a bit bad, holding you up," Snufkin admits, forcing his tone steady. He'd try to make himself walk a little faster to make up for it all, but he knows it won't do any good. "You're going to miss out on some of the fun." 

"I don't mind it, if I'm spending the time with you," Moomin says, the affectionate words coming with an ease that Snufkin envies. "Besides, if I left you, then  _you'd_ be the one missing out. Although," he adds on, suddenly hesitant despite his earlier assurance. "If you wanted, I could get us both there quicker." 

Moomin suddenly seems quite uncertain, and Snufkin struggles to piece together what exactly the moomintroll is offering, even as he begins to reassure Snufkin that, "I won't if you don't want me to. I really don't mind walking slow." And  _then_ it connects that Moomin has offered to carry Snufkin the rest of the way to the beach. 

Snufkin has been offered such help several times in the past, usually by those who held no belief in Snufkin's ability to get around on his own and who would become extremely irate if turned down. Moomin isn't like that, though, and he never particularly has been. It's also not an unusual or exclusive offer, since Moomin being the largest of his friends means that he's carried nearly all of them at least once at one point or another (aside from Snufkin, who usually enjoys to walk on his own and who has never asked). 

He knows that he could say no, and that Moomin would accept his answer and happily continue to walk with him the rest of the way. That more than anything is what prompts Snufkin to say, "Alright, if you really don't mind." 

The brief moment of being taken aback passes quickly, overtaken by excitement and Moomin's usual eagerness to help (he does not ask if Snufkin is 'sure', which Snufkin appreciates). With only minimal struggling, Moomin hefts Snufkin up onto his back and only has to adjust his grip on Snufkin's legs once before they're able to head off, unencumbered and much faster than before. 

And Snufkin, his arms thrown easily over Moomin's shoulders - hardly having to support himself at all - tries very unsuccessfully to not become flustered at all the closeness (and if he's blushing fiercely by the time they reach the sand, well, that's only because of the wind chafing his cheeks). 

(If you asked Moomin about his flushed tone, he'd tell you it was simply because Snufkin was heavier than he'd expected.) 

(Little My does not have to be a genius to know that both of them are lying.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i drew [some art](https://princex-n.tumblr.com/post/185019122493/a-little-watercolor-sketch-for-chapter-3-of-this) for this chapter :3c


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very bad at replying to comments, but Thank You All for all of the very sweet ones that you've left for this fic so far!! This is a shorter chapter, but the last one is much longer!!

Snufkin knows that he was doing  _something_ , he's just not entirely sure he remembers what it was. 

"You need to stretch," Little My says, her voice its usual condescending tone, and Snufkin blinks vaguely at the sound of it. 

He doubts quite seriously that he had welcomed to her into his tent, but also knows that Little My very rarely does things because she was welcomed or granted permission to. He gets the impression that he should say something to her, but no words find their way onto his tongue. 

"Stretch," she repeats, with the air of someone who has repeated themselves several times already, though her tone has hardly changed. Snufkin supposes that she has a point - his hips and shoulder are tight, and the sharp discomfort is really the only feedback that seems to be cutting through the thick fog in his skull. 

My clears her throat pointedly. His gaze finds her again, and he watches as she stretches demonstratively, eyebrows raised high in unspoken question. 

Amicable to the suggestion, Snufkin uncurls his own body and mimics her position, letting the pain of his stretching muscles force him closer to the surface.

They continue on in this fashion, and when Snufkin begins to get lost or distracted, Little My pointedly drags him back on track with a brief comment or noise, and then continues to push him through all of his usual stretches. (He's distantly surprised that she seems to know his entire routine, but supposes that he should know better, considering her chronic inability to mind her own business.) 

"Thank you," he tells her when they've finished, still pulled thin and exhausted by the weight of his own body, but cognizant enough to recognize that the stretches will make the rest of the day much easier to cope with, and that Little My had no obligation to help. 

"Whatever," she scoffs, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes in a performative manner. "You're just lucky I decided not to steal all of your food while I was in here." 

Later, Snufkin will realize that she had neglected to mention the several handfuls of nuts and berries that she  _had_ stolen from his supplies while he was distracted (though he does have to admit that she hadn't taken  _all_ of it). Still, he supposes that she may have earned it, for helping him out (just as she's earned the careful nudge to her ankle that sends her sprawling into the grass and nearly rolling down a hill - and if anyone asks about what caused it, then she merely got in his way while he was trying to stretch, just as she told him to). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, sometimes siblings are just Like That


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't feeling great today, so this chapter is a little late, but this is it!! I hope you all enjoyed the fic, and I thank you all for reading!!!

Snufkin's ability to hold himself together is rapidly fading away. 

The pain is not the  _worst_ that it has ever been, but it has been more doggedly persistent than it has in a while. The thunderstorm yesterday had been enough to keep the others from coming out to bother him, but it also hadn't done Snufkin any good. Low or medium level aches in his bones and joints that won't fade regardless of how many times Snufkin has tried stretching or shifting position. His shins and forearms  _burn_ with an aggravating intensity that makes the dull throbs of his joints so much more intolerable than usual. 

Through it all, the sound of thunder and rain falling against the sides of his tent had combined with the pain to create more sensory input than Snufkin was equipped to handle. It's kept him awake through the days and the night, all of it combining to make reigning in his emotions just about impossible. 

So, when he bursts into tears at the sound of Moomin's excited voice approaching his tent now that the rain has stopped, Snufkin can't say that he's entirely  _surprised_ (disappointment notwithstanding). 

He knows that he could force his voice steady long enough to ask Moomin to leave, and that his friend would do so without question. 

But, it's just that Snufkin doesn't particularly  _want_ to. 

"Moomin," he calls back, voice trembling embarrassingly around the knot in his throat. 

Moomin pauses outside the tent. "Snufkin?" he answers hesitantly. "Can I come in?" 

Not wanting to speak and risk his voice shaking again, Snufkin hums out an affirmative, and Moomin is peeking in not a moment later, looking vaguely nervous. 

The anxiety shifts into something sadder when he catches sight of Snufkin, whose face is still crumpled as he tries in vain to stem the flow of tears (he's never been particularly embarrassed when it comes to crying, and believes it important, but that doesn't necessarily make it any easier - especially when it comes to crying about  _this_ ). "Oh, Snufkin," Moomin says, voice not pitying, but understanding. "Is it very bad today?" 

"Not even especially," Snufkin replies, perhaps a bit bitterly. He has certainly hurt much worse than this before, after all. "It simply hasn't let up. And I haven't been sleeping very well." Or at all, really. 

Moomin settles down carefully in the space next to him, close - due to the lack of free space in Snufkin's tent - but not close enough to touch, yet. "Can I help?" he asks simply, in a very Moomin-like fashion. 

Snufkin lets out a noise that may be a laugh, or a sob - even he can't be completely certain. "I don't know," he admits. "I've tried everything I could think of, myself. But I can't keep doing this." 

It's more than Snufkin has ever bothered to admit before. It's always been more to do with a desperate attempt to prove his ability to take care of himself and minimize his troubles than any true belief that no one else could possibly help him. Nobody enjoys being around someone who 'complains' too much, after all, and when the illness is all the time instead of temporary, it's hard to say where others may draw the line. 

But this is Moomin, and Moomin is different. 

"Mamma may be able to come up with something," Moomin suggests, having no ideas of his own. "I could bring her here." The idea of having so many people in his tent when he's like this brings an entirely new knot to Snufkin's throat. "Or, we could go back to the house ourselves - it might be easier than trying to fit here." 

Whether Moomin had picked up on Snufkin's unspoken anxiety or not, Snufkin appreciates the second option, and even knows it to be the better one. The only issue is...

"Moomin, I can't -," his voice breaks, and he swallows the sound harshly. "I can't walk that far like this." 

The admission is as much truth as it is lie - he likely  _could_ if he had to, but it would take so much time and energy that even the thought of trying is intimidatingly exhausting. (Moominmamma's words are still in his head, "Do you  _want_ to?" And Snufkin doesn't want to.) 

"Oh, I meant that I'd carry you," Moomin admits, looking a little flustered - though whether that's due to Snufkin's renewed tears or the memory of the last time he'd offered, Snufkin isn't sure. "As long as  _that_ wouldn't hurt you too. Would it?" 

Snufkin has not been held nearly enough times to know. "I don't know," he says. "I don't think so." He sniffs with as much dignity as he can muster, "I suppose there's only one way to find out." 

"You want to try?" Moomin asks, and Snufkin nods.

There is some awkward maneuvering on both their parts as they try to navigate the motion inside the cramped space of Snufkin's tent - Moomin, trying not to knock over too many things, and Snufkin, trying not to move very much at all. In the end, the only way they can figure it out is for Moomin to simply scoop Snufkin up into his arms, leaving the mumrik pressed tightly against his chest.

It's a little embarrassing, but most of Snufkin's attention is caught between the simultaneous comfort of Moomin's warmth, and the pain at the jostling of his steps (though to his credit, he seems to be making quite the effort to minimize the impacts). 

No, the embarrassment doesn't truly return until Moomin has burst through the front door of Moominhouse, calling, "Mamma! Snufkin needs help!"  _That's_ when Snufkin has to ignore the pain in his wrists and paws to pull the brim of his hat down over his face to hide the flushed skin and swollen eyes he knows are there. 

He peeks out again once they've come to a halt, Moomin hovering in the living room, not sure if he should put Snufkin down - or where he would - as Moominmamma approaches. 

"Oh dear," she says. "What seems to be the problem?" 

Snufkin nearly begins to cry all over again. "Just tired, Moominmamma," he manages to say, giving her a watery smile. It stings a bit, to feel so helpless and out of control in front of her, but she takes it in stride as she does nearly everything. 

"Well, why don't you go ahead and lay down on the couch, and I'll see what I can do." It's very much more of an instruction for Moomin, since Snufkin is not standing on his own two feet at all, but she directs it towards him anyway, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. "Have you been sleeping?" 

"I've tried," he tells her as Moomin gets moving again, "but -," he breaks off with a hiss of pain as all of his joints resettle into their new positions, shaking his head reassuringly when Moomin begins to apologize. "But I'm afraid I haven't had much luck. I suppose that's why I'm so," he gestures vaguely at himself with an aching arm, "overwhelmed." 

"That's certainly understandable," Moominmamma says. "Snorkmaiden!" she calls out next, and Snufkin nearly chokes as he spots Snorkmaiden and Little My poke their heads out of the kitchen, mortified at the thought of them being here too. "Do you mind heading home and fetching a couple of your hot water bottles for me?" 

Snorkmaiden nods her head enthusiastically - eager to help - and runs off with hardly a second glance back at Snufkin (who is too busy burying his face beneath his hat to appreciate this). 

"Little My, perhaps you would like to heat up some water while I go look in Grandmoomin's remedy book?" 

"Okay, Moominmamma," My replies, unusually complacent (though, she usually is, when she decides the situation calls for it). 

"I'll sit with Snufkin," Moomin says before his mother can give him any other suggestion, already situating himself near Snufkin's feet to help take off his boots (he had tried removing them himself the night before, but found the laces horribly disagreed with the state of his hands, and hadn't gotten very far). 

Moominmamma offers them both a smile. "Don't worry, dear," she says, going to brush Snufkin's hair out of his face, but respects the placement of his hat in shielding him, and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder instead. "We'll figure it out." 

It's more comforting than Snufkin would have thought. 

Boots removed, Moomin makes quick work of shuffling his way onto the couch with Snufkin, situating himself under Snufkin's legs to help better support his knees, as well as giving himself easier access to begin cautiously massaging the muscles around the aching joints. 

It's hard to tell if it helps, exactly, but it certainly isn't hurting, and it's pleasant enough that Snufkin lets out a raspy, underused purr - up until it breaks off at a surge of pain from his hip. Moomin continues his ministrations without comment, albeit slightly pinker than before. 

"Thank you," Snufkin says, because he figures that Moomin should know. 

"Of course," Moomin replies, and smiles back reassuringly when Snufkin's attempt doesn't quite pull through. 

Snorkmaiden returns and goes into the kitchen with the hot water bottles, and Snufkin resolutely doesn't look anywhere near her as she brings them back out to give to him (he is, of course, grateful, but there are limits to his emotional fortitude). The heat of them against his hips and shoulders does help slightly (he had considered placing one near his ankles, but that would require Moomin to stop touching them, and he wouldn't quite prefer that), and the one against his lower back helps more.

Whether through their own decision or Moominmamma's intervention, neither Snorkmaiden nor Little My linger in the house very long, leaving Moominmamma's quiet working in the kitchen the only sound in the house. All of this combined with the feeling of Moomin's paws against his aching joints is nearly enough to push him into falling asleep right then and there. 

"It's hard to say if this will help with the  _pain_ exactly," Moominmamma says, rousing him from the quiet daze he'd fallen into. "But at the very least, it  _should_ help you sleep."

Snufkin - who has never been skilled with medications or potions, and who's never had anyone he could ask for help with it before - is sure to appreciate nearly anything she could offer him. He takes the cup from her gratefully, and drinks it quickly, making an exaggerated face at the taste that makes both moomins chuckle. 

"Thank you," he tells them, trying very hard to put everything he can't quite say into the two words he can. There isn't quite a way to put it into words, how much it helps to know that they are there to help him, but that they would stay with him even if there was no way they could. To know that they would let him cry and complain and need their help as much as he liked, without becoming uncomfortable or annoyed by it all. 

It seems like too much to ask of almost anyone, but the Moomin's offer it so freely, as if they couldn't imagine doing it any other way. 

"Of course, dear," Moominmamma says fondly, running her paw through his hair now that his hat is gone. "It's no trouble at all." 

As Snufkin falls asleep, he finds that he believes her, and the realization makes him warm in a way he never wants to lose. 

Warm in a way he has no intention of letting go. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


End file.
